


Given by a Loving Hand

by profound-boning (farawaystardust)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adopted Claire Novak, Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Flirting, Fluff, Foodie Dean, Interior Decorating, M/M, Past Substance Abuse, Past minor character death, Punk Castiel/Nerd Dean Winchester, Texting, Wrong number, kind of lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 14:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farawaystardust/pseuds/profound-boning
Summary: >> Received from 5135555000: Z is trying to tell me I can’t paint Claire’s room blue cuz she’s a girl. Fuck thisDean stares at his phone screen for a full minute feeling confused as hell before he realizes it must be a misdial. Then, he feels righteous indignation at whoever the hell “Z” is and their opinion that a girl’s room can’t be blue.<< Sent to 5135555000: Wrong number, but hell yeah. Paint that girl’s room blue.





	Given by a Loving Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uncelestial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncelestial/gifts).



> This little idea that grew so large, now flies away from the nest... *sniffle* This was written for [uncelestialdestiel](http://uncelestialdestiel.tumblr.com) as part of a gift exchange on the [profoundnet](http://profoundnet.tumblr.com/) server!
> 
> Title comes from this Arabic proverb: "A turquoise given by a loving hand carries with it happiness and good fortune." If you have an idea where I can credit this please let me know! 
> 
> prompt is from a real wrong number situation I found online, and this is rated T for cursing

**> > Received from 5135555000: Z is trying to tell me I can’t paint Claire’s room blue cuz she’s a girl. Fuck this**

Dean stares at his phone screen for a full minute feeling confused as hell before he realizes it must be a misdial. Then, he feels righteous indignation at whoever the hell “Z” is and their opinion that a girl’s room can’t be blue.

**< < Sent to 5135555000: Wrong number, but hell yeah. Paint that girl’s room blue.**

**> > Received from 5135555000: Oh my bad.**

**< < Sent to 5135555000: It’s all good. :)**

He means it sincerely. Sandover may eat up a lot of his time, but Dean works hard to limit that to a nice weekday schedule and to leave it behind when he’s off the clock. Plus, today is Saturday. He’s got nothing better to do than sit around in his underwear and defend the rights of little kids to have whatever color bedroom they want to have.

Still, he’s surprised when his phone buzzes again with a message from the same person.

**> > Received from 5135555000: Hey can I ask real quick? You think like turquoise or periwinkle for a 3yr old?**

**< < Sent to 5135555000: I think a more toned down turquoise. Not too loud, because bedrooms are supposed to be chill, you know?**

**> > Received from 5135555000: Yeah, I got you.**

This is quickly followed up with a Pantone image of a pretty standard turquoise color.

**> > Received from 5135555000: You think like this is ok?**

**< < Sent to 5135555000: That’s pretty. It could be a little dark, though, depending on the size of the room and her furniture.**

Is he really helping some guy redecorate a little girl’s bedroom via text message? Well, he shouldn’t make assumptions about the other person but from their texting, it seems like they might be a man.

**> > Received from 5135555000: Room is okay size. Theres a big window on one wall & just got her some white furniture. The kind that looks all woven together**

**< < Sent to 5135555000: Wicker?**

**> > Received from 5135555000: Yeah, that. Gonna collect dust like a motherfucker lol.**

Dean lets out a chuckle at that. Wicker is cute for kids furniture so it’ll be fine, but the other person doesn’t seem too eager about it. First-time parent, maybe?

**< < Sent to 5135555000: Probably but it’s cute. :) I’d do the color you picked on the wall across from the window and maybe a lighter color on the other three walls?**

**> > Received from 5135555000: Yeah yeah. This gonna look good.**

Dean smiles, happy to think that he might have done something nice for this guy. Director of Sales is tough and some days it kind of feels like he’s sold his soul to a corporation, so even this tiny act of companionship feels really good.

**< < Sent to 5135555000: Happy to help. :)**

While Doctor Sexy woos a nurse on the screen, Dean contemplates getting up to make another smoothie. He’s a bit thirsty but he could go for some fruit. Also, now he’s thinking about wicker furniture and a neutral color palette with turquoise accents.

Still, he’s not expecting to hear back.

**> > Received from 5135555000: Man they really got so much cute shit for little kids at Target.**

**< < Sent to 5135555000: Going to Target was your first mistake!**

**> > Received from 5135555000: I see that now. I was a fool.**

Dean grins at his phone screen, all alone in his penthouse apartment, like a middle schooler. He’s not sure he should care, though.

**< < Sent to Fool: Okay, changed your contact name. :)**

**> > Received from Fool: Yours is Turquoise**

**> > Received from Fool: I even used that pic as ur pic**

**< < Sent to Fool: Clever, fool. Should I use Clopin or is there another jester I should use?**

**> > Received from Fool: I’d say I’m more Heath Ledger’s Joker but thats not kid-friendly is it**

**< < Sent to Fool: Not in the slightest, but it is very good!**

After a few minutes without a response, Dean finally pulls himself off the couch and trudges into the kitchen. He putters around and thinks about what he’ll need in order to meal plan for the week. Thankfully his next business trip isn’t for another week, so he’ll be able to eat normally for a little while longer. As he’s slicing an avocado, he hears his phone buzz on the coffee table. Humming to himself, he finishes plating his lunch and wanders back out. Normally, he eats strictly in the kitchen, but he doesn’t want to leave that message unattended.

He’ll keep pretending to himself that he’s concerned it may be work-related.

**> > Received from Fool: Listen. Do you have kids**

**< < Sent to Fool: Nope, but I do have a younger sister who’s married with two of her own.**

**> > Received from Fool: K but you would know about this stuff better than me**

**> > Received from Fool: Probably**

Dean thinks about that for a minute. Didn’t the stranger say the room is for a three-year-old?

**< < Sent to Fool: I’m no expert but I’m capable. What’s up?**

**> > Received from Fool: Sorry I’m being weird. Did you ever check out parenting books? blogs? I’m trying to get any info I can but thereso much it’s kind of overwhelming.**

Heart swelling with affection and a tiny bit of pity, Dean thinks over the guy’s options while he eats. Finally, he responds with a couple of decent online choices and tips. When he became an expert on any of this stuff he’s not sure, but it seems like this man could use a friend right now.

**< < Sent to Fool: And I guess the last thing is you should scope out local stuff. I don’t mean to creep but we have the same area code, so you should search up parenting classes or groups in your neighborhood. If you’re religious at all churches have lots of stuff like that.**

**> > Received from Fool: Thank you so much for all of this**

**> > Received from Fool: I can’t thank you enough**

**< < Sent to Fool: It’s no trouble! The twins are about two now but I hope some of it will be relatable for you and Claire?**

**> > Received from Fool: Anything helps. None of my family is supportive so I’ve just been winging it but she deserves more than that.**

**< < Sent to Fool: I’m really sorry to hear that, for whatever that’s worth.**

**> > Received from Fool: It’s worth more than you know.**

The whole weekend, Dean finds himself more and more captivated by the stranger on the other end of the phone. The wrong number snafu was apparently a desperate attempt to get a cousin, Gabriel, on his side against the first cousin, Zachariah. He’s been described to Dean in some rather unflattering terms.

Late on Sunday night, Dean receives a photograph of a nice-looking room painted in turquoise and ash brown.

**> > Received from Fool: Ready for Claire to come home. Thank you again.**

**< < Sent to Fool: Looks great, fool. :) You’ll need snacks, too. How’s your kitchen?**

**> > Received from Fool: … well I know the microwave works**

Dean groans, feeling a fresh wave of pity.

**< < Sent to Fool: Need some recipes?**

**> > Received from Fool: Please.**

**> > Received from Fool: And you can call me Cas.**

Dean bites his lip and resists the urge to say something flirty like, “a special nickname just for me?” That’s probably the last thing the guy needs right now. He immediately sends over a couple of kids-food-focused blogs and then, after a brief hesitation, he sends his own. He doesn’t mention anything special about it, only that it’s more for grown-ups. Finally, he introduces himself.

**< < Sent to Cas: And you can call me Dean. :)**

**> > Received from Cas: Thank you Dean! Gotta take some time and read all those.**

**< < Sent to Cas: It may take a while… and be prepared to say goodbye to your microwave!**

**> > Received from Cas: This old lady has been with me longer than any relationship I’ve ever had so I’m doubtful**

**< < Sent to Cas: The only thing microwaves are good for heating up leftovers. Even then, it should be used sparingly.**

Dean receives a photo of a very standard-looking microwave and a caption reading, **dont disrespect her like this!** He can’t help but notice that there’s a slight reflection in the door. His face is covered by the cell phone, but Dean can see a shock of dark hair as well as bold tattoos on the back of both hands. A large red rose on one and something trailing down Cas’s fingers on the other.

He opts not to mention it, instead asking Cas if all of his appliances are respectable ladies, which isn’t really doing him any favors in his mission to not flirt with Cas.

It’s two in the afternoon on a Tuesday when Dean realizes that, somewhere along the way, he and Cas have become something like friends. Dean has just closed a deal he’s worked so hard to achieve and he wants to talk to Cas about it. He wants to share this joy with him.

Cas replies to his text with a couple of those little party emojis with the confetti.

**< < Sent to Cas: Would you like to get a drink with me and some of the people from the office? We’re celebrating :)**

**> > Received from Cas: I wish that I could Dean. Pour 1 out for me! Congrats.**

Dean feels a little bummed but he tries not to worry about it.

Of course, _drunk_ Dean Smith has no qualms about his feelings.

“I just want him to go out with me,” he whines to his best friends in the office, Lisa, Victor, Ash, and Charlie. They’re assholes and they laugh instead of providing comfort. They also encourage him to text Cas, which Dean will be very angry about in the sober light of day.

**< < Sent to Cas: Heeeeeyyyyy listen. Want to eat dinner sometime? I am can cook!**

**> > Received from Cas: Hello, drunk Dean. I would never turn down a home cooked meal as long as you aren’t drunk for that. Seems like a fire hazard.**

**< < Sent to Cas: OF COURSE NOT!!!! I will call you my address :)**

**> > Received from Cas: Ok Dean :) get home safe 2night**

It makes Dean feel warm all over to think of Cas coming to his apartment, the two of them enjoying a nice dinner. It’s all he can think about for the remainder of the evening, much to his friends’ chagrin.

The headache the following morning is well worth it, he thinks. Cas sends him a sympathetic text and Dean spends the morning in bed instead of hopping on the elliptical.

Cas tells him to pick whatever night he would prefer for dinner and that Cas will make arrangements with their regular babysitter. Dean asks Cas for menu suggestions but it turns out the man subsists on frozen pizzas and chicken nuggets.

Therefore, Dean makes the executive decision that he’s going to make a nice chicken with cooked potatoes and peppers on the side, and a sweet cherry pie for dessert. The day of, he scrambles a bit making sure it is ready to go, but when Cas knocks on his door at a quarter to seven, it’s perfect.

Perfect first because their food is nearly ready to go on the table and second because Cas is a fucking vision. Tanned skin, dark scruff, high cheekbones, sharp blue eyes, a silver eyebrow piercing and a couple of them in his ears, dark hair, and, oh God, his tattoos. Dean can see beautiful designs on his neck, the ones on his hands that he’d noticed in the photo, which extend up his forearms and biceps. Fucking hell, _his biceps._

“Hello, Dean.” Oh no, he looks like a dream and he sounds like one, too? That’s just not fair. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, ahem, yes,” Dean croaks before hurriedly clearing his throat. “Hi. You’re here.”

Cas smiles and spreads his arms out a bit as if he’s gesturing to himself. “Here I am.”

“Wow, I’m being a weirdo,” Dean finally laughs. “I just—I’m so glad to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Cas replies, but it sounds a bit stiff. “The food smells amazing.”

“Oh!” Dean might have burned the whole building down just staring at Cas. “It’s just about ready. Come on in.”

“Thank you.” Cas scuffs his feet on the doormat and steps over the threshold, looking for all the world like he’d rather turn and run. Dean feels wrong-footed, unsure how to make his guest feel more comfortable. He presses on, leading Cas through the living room and into the kitchen. He loves his kitchen, has always felt very at home here.

When they are sitting at his little table with full plates and glasses of water, Cas looks very impressed.

“I could tell you love to cook from your blog,” he says, “but this is truly amazing.”

Dean flushes at the attention. “Oh, thank you. I do enjoy it.”

“Everything looks great,” Cas insists. He spears a bit of potato and pepper and chews it carefully. “It tastes as good as it smells.”

They tuck in happily, forks dinging against the ceramic plates. Cas had requested the water and Dean has a hard time not staring at the way his throat works around each swallow.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks.

“Oh.” Cas looks a bit startled and caught out. “I… Well, I would have dressed better had I known.”

“Had you known what?”

Cas points his fork at Dean and then around the apartment. “How—how _posh_ it would be. You would be. I didn’t think to look at your address on Google Earth so I didn’t know I’d be in a penthouse dining with, well.” He looks at Dean with a sort of fondness. “I don’t even have a funny line right now that’s how much you’ve surprised me.”

Dean ducks his head, a little embarrassed at Cas’s attention. That was flirting, right? Christ, he’s so out of depth here.

“To be fair, I do normally change out of my work attire right away. Tonight I just…” He hesitates. “Just want to make a good impression.” Cas’s eyes widen before he smiles with all of his teeth. Dean takes in the dark blue henley and how nice it makes his shoulders look, and the way the pulled up sleeves accentuate his arms. He glances down at himself—standard white button down and black slacks with a lovely paisley printed tie—and wonders if Cas would appreciate a slight change.

“You have certainly done that,” Cas replies. His gaze is very appreciative and Dean can’t help but preen a little bit.

“I could change?” he offers, already setting down his fork and knife.

Cas laughs. “No, no, just—I dunno, lose the tie?”

“But this is my favorite tie.” Dean pretends to pout and wins another chuckle. Cas’s laugh is without a doubt the best-sounding laugh Dean has ever heard in his whole life.

“Ties are for work, Dean, not for dates.” Good thing he hadn’t been taking a sip of his water.

“So, this is a date?” he confirms in a quiet voice, avoiding eye contact by tugging at the perfect knot of his tie and undoing the top button.

“I’d like that,” Cas answers, “would you?”

“Absolutely,” Dean breathes. He meets Cas’s eyes across the table, the blue of them piercing in the low light. Cas’s cheeks are a little pink and Dean is captivated by him.

No matter how much he wants to, Dean’s mama raised him right and he’s not going to make a move toward anything seriously physical on a first date unless Cas initiates it. Instead, he asks for pictures of Claire and enjoys listening to Cas’s stories about her.

They wash up after dinner, side by side at the sink. Dean had tried to tell Cas to go and sit on the couch but Cas wouldn’t have it, insisting that he help clean since Dean did all the cooking.

“Plus, this is _way_ less clean up than at home,” Cas reasons. “I don’t have to wipe up the whole table and the chair and the floor.”

“Claire’s a bit messy, then?”

“You have no idea.” Cas sighs fondly. “I expect I’ll be doing more laundry than most people our age do in a year.”

“I suppose bachelors aren’t known for their housekeeping qualities,” Dean jokes.

Cas’s expression turns a bit hard. “You’d be right about that. Some people certainly seem to believe it, think we’re unfit or some fuckery like that. Though maybe that’s just with my history.”

Dean can feel the anger pouring off of him and instantly feels bad for saying something. Obviously this is a sore subject and, frankly, it’s not like he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself. Everyone should know how to keep their home in good condition.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Oh.” Cas turns slightly to look at him, the tension dropping out of his face and shoulders. “Dean, it’s not you. Really. Uh, that sounded stupid.” He laughs awkwardly. “I just meant you’re not the person I’m, like, mentally angry with right now.”

“Well, that is good news.” Dean dries his hand on a towel and passes another to Cas. “I wouldn’t want to ruin our first date.”

“Sort of sounds like you’re hoping we’ll have more,” Cas replies.

Dean blushes and shrugs like he’s uncertain, but he’s pretty sure Cas can see right through him. He hesitates before leading them to the living room. “Would you like something to drink? I only have beer and wine, but you’re welcome to either.”

Cas shakes his head no and walks straight to the couch. “Since I would also like to have more dates with you, Dean, I should tell you now that I don’t drink at all.”

“Oh! God, Cas, I’m sorry if I was being pushy or something. That’s really not cool.”

“Shut up,” Cas waves him off but he’s smiling. “You weren’t being fucking pushy. Trust me, I’ve dealt with pushy. You’re great.” Dean settles then, sitting down next to Cas. “It’s just something to get out of the way, telling you. We can still go out to bars and such but I’m not into watering holes and clubs anymore, you know?”

“Sure, Cas. Never really my scene anyway.”

“And I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to have a drink right now,” Cas tells him. “It’s your house. You worked today and then made our dinner. Do what you want.”

Dean shrugs, the motion sort of awkward where he’s slumped down and sprawled out on his couch. “But I just got comfy. I think I’ll pass.” Cas chuckles and Dean thinks of sunshine and wind chimes on his parents’ porch. “Tell me about your job? You’ve mentioned you get to work from home now.”

“I’m an accountant,” Cas replies easily. Dean sits up a little bit. This drop dead gorgeous man with his earrings and tattoos is an _accountant?_ “You look so surprised.” Cas laughs again. “It’s true though. I used to be a corporate drone in a stuffy office; just take out the earrings and wear long sleeves all the time and you can pass for anything. I’ve been working in finance since college. I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it. After what happened…uh, now with Claire, the company rewarded my loyalty with a nice desktop computer and a promise that as long as my accounts are taken care of it doesn’t matter where I’m doing the work.”

“That’s great,” Dean says. He wonders if there’s a tactful way to ask ‘what happened.’ But he can’t think of one so instead, he tells Cas all about Sandover and how long he’s been living here. They talk about sports and movies and even a little bit of politics before the conversation loops back around.

“It’s fucking incredible how much they expect us to pay for healthcare,” Cas is saying. “Even if you have ‘good benefits’ you’re still fucked. Ambulance rides alone are a thousand bucks a pop plus mileage. And that’s before you even get treated.”

“It’s absurd,” Dean agrees. “How the hell anyone in a life-threatening situation is meant to take care of that I’ll never understand.”

Cas nods, fuming. “Right? Just to get ‘em somewhere and have them die on the operating table and then add in the cost of the funeral and shit. It’s a fucking black hole is what it is.” He blinks, realizing what he’s said. Dean notices tears forming and his heart sinks, reaching for Cas’s hand between them.

“Cas?”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, and then he takes a deep breath. “Really. I’m fine. I just…get upset sometimes.”

“Losing people sucks ass,” Dean replies. “It’s okay if it hurts you.”

“This is just unfair. I can’t even appreciate the very first time Dean Smith swears at me because I’m such a mess.” Cas laughs wetly and squeezes Dean’s hand. “It’s… That’s why Claire lives with me now. Her dad, my twin brother Jimmy, and my sister-in-law Amelia, they…”

“Cas, I’m so sorry,” he says softly.

Cas bites his lip and nods, his eyes huge and blue. “It took—God, it took nearly everything I had to keep her. Our family is so fucking unsupportive but it’s right there in their fucking will, so I told them all to eat shit and either show up for Claire and stay away. We’re on our own now.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Dean says, running his fingers across the back of Cas’s hand.

“Thank you.” Cas seems lost in thought for a moment so Dean keeps quiet until he’s ready. “I…might as well get this out of the way right now since we’re talking about all this other heavy shit. They’re unsupportive because I was an addict for a long time and even though I’m in treatment and recovered they just can’t let it go. I got help the day Jimmy and Amelia told me she was pregnant and I’ve been clean since the day Claire was born because I wanted to be a part of that little girl’s life, no matter the cost. Jimmy is the only person who never abandoned me, never gave up on me, never stopped loving me.” Cas doesn’t try to stop his tears this time and Dean just holds his hand. “So when some fuckin’ drunk ruined their lives I said I was going to do whatever I needed to do to help Claire. Amelia’s family is nice enough to send presents for her but they live in Illinois so they can’t be here, you know?”

“Yeah, Cas. I mean, I can’t understand one hundred percent, but I think I’m a pretty good listener.”

Cas finally gives him a smile. “I’d agree with that.”

Dean grins back at him. “Is that how we ended up meeting? Because you were texting someone about one of your dumbass family members?”

“Ugh, unfortunately, yes,” Cas replies. “My cousin Zachariah is way holier than thou and doesn’t do a damned thing for me or for Claire but he _loves_ to give his opinion on my parenting abilities. Like painting a little girl’s room blue is a fucking crime.”

“Dude’s an idiot,” he declares. “It looks awesome.”

“You should see it in person,” Cas suggests. “Date number two could be at our house?”

“You’d clean the table for me?” Dean teases him.

“I suppose I could.” Cas looks shyer than Dean ever imagined he could when he says, “I’d like for you to meet Claire soon, too. She’ll need to approve of you, you understand.”

“Oh man, talk about nerve-racking.” He winks at Cas, who grins. “That will be the most stressful interview of my life.”

“I like your chances,” Cas admits, leaning a little closer. Dean goes with it, knowing that Cas wouldn’t be initiating if he wasn’t comfortable and, yeah, he really wants to kiss him. The moment their lips touch is every bit the stereotypical ‘fireworks’ moment for Dean, seeing the lights behind his eyes and feeling the warmth in his gut. He tugs on Cas’s hand and ends up with a lapful of hot accountant and—

“Holy fuck, is that a tongue piercing?”

Cas smiles wickedly. “You ever made out with someone with a tongue piercing before? How about blow jobs?”

Dean is a tiny bit embarrassed at the noise he makes, but the look on Cas’s face and the steamy kisses that follow are so, so worth it.

In fact, Dean learns pretty quickly that anything is worth it when it makes Cas smile with all of his teeth or when it makes Claire laugh out loud. She’s a quiet kid but Dean works hard to win her over. Nothing worthwhile ever came easy, and Dean’s not about to let these two out of his life. Their little family is perfect, and meeting Cas and Claire at the altar three years later is proof positive of that.

**Author's Note:**

> [on tumblr](http://profound-boning.tumblr.com/post/175249046409/)


End file.
